by Brynn Kelly
“I’ll make some adjust—”
He sensed her freezing, and flicked his eyes open. She crouched and picked up a syringe and vial from the carpet. The contents of the kit had scattered.
“This is the same stuff that was on the bedside table at the cottage.” She picked up a blister pack of tabs and then a bottle of pills, reading the labels. “You told me you’d destroy it.”
“And I will. They just...fell out of the rucksack.” He swept together the drugs and dumped them in the kit. “When have I had time? I can’t leave them in a public rubbish bin where any homeless bugger could pick them out.”
Her forehead wrinkled. She thought he was lying—and why shouldn’t she? The truth I can deal with. It’s lies and deception I have a problem with.
“Jamie, have you taken any more since the cottage?”
“No.”
She dropped eye contact, blinking fast.
“But of course you don’t believe me.” He clicked the lid back on, shaking his head. “And why should you? That’s the problem. That’s always going to be the problem. You can’t trust me anymore. If I’m jumpy, you’ll suspect drugs. If I sleep too heavily, you’ll suspect drugs. If I’m too quiet, if I’m on edge, if I’m too chilled, if I’m wired, if I’m tired, if I’m happy, if I go out to meet somebody without telling you every detail, if I spend too long in the bathroom, if my eyes look different... You’ll be searching the rubbish and checking my fucking phone log. You see? This is one of the many reasons we could never work, you and I.”
“You keep talking as if I’m asking for a relationship,” she said quietly. “I’m not, okay? I’ve asked for nothing from you and I’m not going to. I’m not...ready for any of this and neither are you.”
He stood, abruptly, his head protesting at the rush of movement. “Shite. I know you’re not. I really don’t know why I said all of that.”
Yes, he did. Because he’d found somebody he’d actually like to go there with but that would mean facing up to things he didn’t want to face up to. And he’d screwed everything up before they could get started, anyway. He couldn’t be with somebody who didn’t trust him any more than she could be with somebody she didn’t trust.
She stood, slowly, quickly stepping backward when she realized how close they were. “I have to...disable Laura’s social media. We have to...go.” She turned away, and froze. “You’re not answerable to me, Jamie. Just to yourself.”
She left, closing the door behind her. He stared at the box in his hands.
CHAPTER TWENTY
FROM THE HIRED PRIUS, the hotel loomed into the heavy sky like a medieval prison. Hidden downlights cast shadows under its architraves, as if it were frowning down on Samira. I’m watching you. Along the road, streetlamps lit silvery blades of rain.
Thank God she’d be waiting out the break-in in the basement, hidden behind the windows Rafe had blacked out to match those of Laura’s car. She clutched the laptop. Holly had begged the hotel’s Wi-Fi password from the guy she’d stolen the keycard from, pretending to be a fellow guest who’d forgotten it.
They slowed as they passed through the valet parking bay. Holly lowered her window and a parking attendant approached. Beyond him the roller door was guarded by a police officer in a heavy coat. She raised her hand as if to shield her face from the drizzle. Samira opened the laptop with shaking fingers, swiped the mouse pad to bring it out of hibernation and hunkered down over the screen, pulling tendrils of the brown wig over her shoulders, to more closely resemble Laura’s brunette assistant.
“Excuse me. I’m so sorry,” Holly called to the attendant, in a slightly different accent, loud enough for the cop to hear. “I forgot something. We need to pop back in real quick. Do you mind opening the...?” She gestured at the roller door.
If the attendant or cop thought it odd that Laura was doing the talking and not her staff they said nothing. Samira opened a blank document and furiously typed nonsense, her ears and peripheral vision working overtime. A clunk and rattle. Ahead, the door was lifting. They passed into the gloomy interior, and she practiced exhaling with a whoosh and then letting her chest fill with new oxygen all by itself, as if breathing were a thoroughly normal bodily function. From the driver’s seat, Jamie glanced back and gave a somber smile.
She directed him to a security camera black spot in a corner, from where “Laura” and her bodyguard could catch an elevator to the lobby. Rafe would accompany Holly, as he more closely resembled one of Laura’s detail, while Jamie stayed with Samira. That too was a comfort, even if the air between them had thickened.
I’m not ready for any of this and neither are you.
A small irrational part of her had hoped he would challenge her, as he had with so many of her fears and doubts, declare that actually he was ready. But he’d backed right off. This man who was so willing to fight for what he believed in, for the people he believed in, wasn’t prepared to fight for a future for the two of them. But who was she to judge? She wasn’t fighting either. Always easier not to take the risk.
Holly grabbed her clutch purse from the seat beside her and, with a wink and grin at Samira, let herself out. Only Rafe seemed to share Samira’s doubts, his face steelier by the minute. No need to fake the vigilant glower of a bodyguard. Samira’s stomach flip-flopped as she watched them walk to the lift, Holly’s head bent over a cell phone in her hand, averting her face from the security camera there. Her new cream coat hung open and a sliver of her red scarf trailed out.
As they disappeared into the elevator, Jamie twisted to face Samira. There’d be no talking about where they’d left things, thank God. They needed to listen to Rafe and Holly’s progress over the comms. Rafe had his set to continuous broadcast, for now. Enforced silence—that was something well within Samira’s comfort zone. It was bad enough that Rafe and Holly had heard the argument in the bedroom—not that they’d said anything but Samira had noted their sideways glances afterward. She winced at the thought. Jamie frowned, tipping his head in a question. She shook her head.
An elevator bell chimed, through the earpiece. “About to step into the lobby,” Rafe murmured. “Wish us luck.”
Samira forced her breath to remain even and quiet as Holly’s stilettos clicked on the marble floor of the reception atrium. Holly would hang back, in view of the concierge but still apparently absorbed by the phone, while Rafe approached the desk.
“Miss Hyland’s keycard has stopped working,” Rafe said, in a passable American accent. Samira pictured him raising the wiped card. The connection glitched a moment, and then his voice returned. “...a new card?”
Samira closed her eyes. Rafe was armed with one of the handguns Jamie had stolen from the goons in the forest but that wouldn’t get him far. Holly had refused to carry a weapon. A woman’s voice filtered in, too distant to make out words. After that, only the slight buzz of white noise, Samira’s own quickening breath and an echoing drip, drip, drip from somewhere in the basement.
She opened her eyes. Jamie’s eyes were gray again, looking over her shoulder to scan the garage, blinking calmly, his jaw set. Was this Jamie the soldier? He didn’t have the jumpiness of earlier, so maybe he wasn’t on anything. Or maybe that was why he appeared calm.
That’s always going to be the problem. You can’t trust me anymore.
True, he wasn’t the infallible hero she’d thought him to be, but somehow that made him more attractive, not less. Right now, the attraction was physical—a pull in her gut, a craving to reach out and cup his smooth jaw. It’d been hell to fix his earpiece in place and tape the cords to his neck and back when all she’d wanted was to tiptoe up and kiss him.
Rafe muttered something. Jamie’s gaze met hers, his forehead wrinkling. She shrugged. After half a minute the heels clicked again. The ping of an arriving elevator. More clicking. Jamie tapped a hand on the back of his seat.
“All good,” Holly w
hispered, feedback squealing. “That blond guy was in the lobby. Sitting on an armchair, talking to a couple of people. I think he looked my way.”
“He did,” Rafe added, “but he didn’t register a problem.”
The elevator chimed. A voice crackled, a Scottish accent. “Are you going down?”
“No, ma’am,” Rafe said. “Catch the next one.”
A few seconds later, another chime. The top floor? Samira listened for footfalls—but the hallways on the accommodation floors were carpeted. She pictured the scene from the plans and photos, filling in the gaps from her own experience of hotels heaving with diplomats. With Hyland and Laura both out, only a few diplomatic security agents would be on guard in the hall—maybe at the elevators, at the right-hand turn in the corridor, outside the senator’s suite... The adjoining rooms would have been cleared for Hyland’s personal staff. A group of suits wearing lanyards had left the hotel just after Hyland—going for dinner, maybe—but some might have stayed back to do paperwork and communications. Samira rubbed her face with both hands. How long was the damn hallway? She checked the time on the car’s clock. Less than ninety minutes until the password changed.
“Hey, man, you know the rules.” A different American accent in the earpiece. “No men in the suite unsupervised.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Rafe, sounding creditably nonchalant.
Samira raised her eyebrows, Jamie mirroring her. Laura wasn’t allowed to be alone with a man in her own hotel suite? Still, it wasn’t much of a setback. Surely Rafe could wait outside, and it was Holly who had the safecracking equipment in her clutch—including, curiously, a stethoscope, pen and notebook, in which she’d drawn a grid. Evidently she hadn’t always been a sailing instructor.
“The suite’s empty,” Holly said, accompanied by shuffling and slapping noises. She’d switched on her continuous feed. “No sign of the fob.” After a few minutes, a clatter—coat hangers being moved? “The safe is standard hotel equipment. Shouldn’t take long. I’ll have to take out the earpiece for a bit.”
A clunk. Holly’s breath became audible, joining the rhythm of the dripping water. Jamie’s eyes fixed blindly into the middle distance behind Samira, as if he were also conjuring an image of Holly, stethoscope pressed against the metal door, turning the dial, listening to whatever it was you listened to when you cracked a safe. Who knew safecrackers actually used stethoscopes? On the car clock, three endless minutes flicked by.
“Okay,” Holly whispered. “It’s a five-digit code.”
Jamie refocused on Samira. She widened her eyes. All that time just to figure out how many numbers she had to crack?
Samira’s laptop chimed and lit up, making her jump.
“Oh my God,” she said to Jamie. “It’s the alert I set up for Charlotte. She’s online.” Hope sparked in her belly, then extinguished. “Or someone else is using her credentials.”
“Can you tell the difference?”
Samira tried a few web pages. “Nothing on her public social media, and I don’t want to risk logging in to my social media to check her private accounts—not on the hotel’s Wi-Fi. I’ll check if she’s been in the game.” She brought up “Cosmos.” “Oh God. She hasn’t been in here but Erebus has.” She clicked into the world where Charlotte had left the message. “There’s a new treasure chest, left a couple of hours ago. Damn, I should have checked.” She clicked on it. “It’s password-protected.”
“Shite.”
“Hang on. The password is a security question.” She clicked through. “Jagger’s favorite food. Okay, that’s kind of creepy.” She typed kitfo and hit Enter. “I’m in. This person knew Latif well.”
As Samira read, the earpiece crackled. “Good news, for those of you listening at home,” Holly said. “I have the fob. Heading back.”
Samira looked at Jamie. It worked. It actually worked.
“What’s the message?” he said, nodding at the laptop.
“It’s a British cell phone number, with the phone provider’s website and a PIN. And a note—‘This guy has Vespa.’” Samira zeroed in on the number. “That’s the phone we stole from the goon at the hospital. We already have access to his information. This doesn’t help.”
“Are you sure?”
“I remember numbers. It had a lot of sevens in it. It’s the same...” Through the earpiece, Holly reported they were safely back in the elevator. “Hold on. No, it’s not the same. That number ended in a five. This one’s a four. They’re sequential—it’s one of the phones our goon in the hospital was communicating with. Shit.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I can log in to the provider website and maybe track the movements of this second phone. If it indeed belongs to someone who’s been involved with Charlotte’s disappearance, I might be able to triangulate the movements of the two phones with the location she’s just logged on from.”
“I love it when I have no idea what you’re saying.”
“It means I might be able to find Charlotte.”
“I like that even more.”
Her hands shook so hard she couldn’t type the web address. She pressed both hands to her chest. Her heart thumped.
“Anything I can help with?” Jamie said.
She shook her head, fighting for breath.
He hopped out of the car, shutting his door behind him. Before she could protest, he’d opened the rear door and slid in beside her. He slipped a hand around her waist. “Breathe with me,” he said. “Like we practiced.”
Yes, that was one thing he could help with. She lowered her fingers to the keyboard, exhaling, and let her chest fill, without effort. As her breath settled, she began typing. She caught movement outside—Rafe and Holly exiting the elevator, Holly’s gaze fixed on the phone.
“If you two are up to something in the back of the car,” Rafe murmured, his hand on his cuff link, “now would be a good time to pretend you’re not.”
Jamie sniggered, reaching his other arm around Samira to activate his mic. “Only virtual excitement in here.”
Rafe and Holly opened the front doors and dropped onto the seats. They removed their earpieces and switched off their mics. Jamie did the same.
Holly shook out the contents of her clutch, drew out the fob and held it on her palm. “Too easy.”
Samira took it, her hand trembling again. “I can’t believe I’m actually holding this.” She switched screens. The triangulation would have to wait. Jamie squeezed her waist as she accessed Hyland’s server and carefully input the string of numbers on the fob.
Samira swore, as a warning flashed up.
“What’s wrong?” Holly said.
“It’s telling me this is the wrong number.”
“Could you have keyed it in wrong?”
“I swear I didn’t but I can try one more time without it locking me out or raising a flag.” She waited for the code to refresh. “Okay, Jamie, watch over my shoulder and make sure I get it right.”
She input it and pressed Enter.
Incorrect number. You have one more attempt.
“Damn,” Samira said. “This must be a fob for something else. Another account, maybe.”
Holly slumped. “I knew it was too easy.”
Samira ran her hands through her hair. “Something you have. What else could it be? What else does he carry—?” She straightened, picturing him walking to his car in his tuxedo. “Oh no.”
Jamie tensed. “What?”
“Next best guess? An app on his cell phone. Damn.”
“How long until he’s due back?” Holly said.
“Thirteen minutes,” Samira said. “But we can’t walk up and...pickpocket him. It’s over.”
Holly twisted in her seat. “When he returns to the hotel he’ll go up to his room, right? And when you get home at the end of the day, or into your hotel, wha
t’s the first thing you do?”
Samira shrugged.
“You empty your pockets, right? Keycard, wallet, phone, whatever.”
“What are you suggesting?” Samira’s neck goose pimpled.
“I wait in the room for him.”
“No.” Rafe and Samira spoke together.
“And do what?” Rafe continued. “You might fool a concierge and a few security guards. You won’t fool her father.”
“I could be lying down in Laura’s bedroom with the lights off—I’ll call out to say I have a headache. A towel over my eyes. Not quite myself. Tell him I skipped out of the launch early. And then first opportunity I get—he takes a leak, he takes a shower, he goes into his room to get changed—I walk out with the phone.”
“What if you don’t get an opportunity?” Rafe said.
“I’ll come back down and we’ll hightail it out of Dodge before Laura returns.”
“What if you can’t get out? What if he sits by the door the whole time? What if Laura gets back while you’re still in there?”
“I’ll think of something.”
“You’ll think of a way to explain why there are suddenly two Lauras? What if he comes in to check on you, bring you some water, realizes you’re not her?”
Holly gave a wry smile. “I honestly don’t think he pays that much attention to her. He’s not the doting type, more the controlling type.”
“You’re not going back up.”
Holly studied Rafe a second, then took in Jamie and Samira. “Anyone got a better plan?”
“We leave,” Samira said. “Get out of town, lie low, wait for another break.”
“And then what?” Jamie said. “Let Hyland fly out? Leave Tess and your parents and Charlotte to their fates? We’re so close—we’re unlikely to get a better opportunity.”
Samira held up her hands. “I know. I was just...wishful.”
Holly grabbed her clutch. “I’m doing it.”
